


For Love and Gold

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Series: Bruce Banner Bingo [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Birthday Party, Bisexual Tony Stark, Fluff, Gay Bruce Banner, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Surprise Party, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24403366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: Tony is the ridiculous king who spends all of his country’s money on strange things and Bruce is the poor advisor that has to somehow manage his king’s spending habits. He’s also hopelessly in love with the king but can’t imagine that Tony could possibly feel the same.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Series: Bruce Banner Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776064
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

The candles flickered on the desk around him, down to little more than stubs of wax. By this point, the distant moon provided more light through the thick cloud cover than the dwindling candles did. Perhaps it was for the best. If he couldn’t see the numbers on the ledger then he could pretend that they were far healthier than the depressing reality.

Bruce slumped back in his chair, a scrap of dignity the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the table. This was about as far from good as discovering a poisonous snake in the lavatory. The Stark Empire wasn’t poor by any standards - the people were thriving, happy and fed, revolution the last thing on their minds - but if King Anthony continued to flitter away the country’s funds on handsome shirts and exotic foods then they would be bankrupt by the year’s end. 

It didn’t matter how hard Bruce tried to talk the regent out of his impulsive parties and strange desires - truly, who needed a golden toilet? Was the platinum, diamond encrusted seat insufficient? - King Anthony wouldn’t hear his concerns. The taxes will cover it all, he claimed. And yes, while they might, there was no margin for emergency funds.

What would happen if the kingdom was flooded and the harvest destroyed? Or perhaps a gigantic, three headed beast from the north would traipse through the villages and eat half of the inhabitants? How would the treasury cope if the worst happened and the tyrant Thanos declared war on the neighbouring lands? All it would take was one unforeseen disaster and the already dwindling reserve of gold and gems would vanish.

And yet, with all those worries weighing him down, Bruce never was able to say no to the king’s requests. King Anthony could just flash that big, bright smile, flutter his gorgeous brown eyes and Bruce would absolutely melt. Over and over again, without fail. Every time he’d steel himself, prepare a long and well thought out speech to declare why a sword forged from the blood of his enemies or a frog that could cure STDs with its song were terrible investments, and every time the king would smile and Bruce would stumble over his words, lose all sense of reason and agree to each ridiculous scheme as they came. 

Bruce closed the accounting ledger and shoved it back onto the shelf. It was a hopeless endeavour. He grabbed his cloak, the chill of the night gnawing at his bones, and wrapped it around his shoulders. The pin, given to him by King Anthony himself, held the royal seal - concentric circles, inlaid with a navy enamel, etched onto a silver surface - was one of his most treasured possessions. Bruce traced the marks with his fingers and sighed. 

He grabbed the last flickering torch from the wall and locked the records chamber. Turning to leave, he bumped straight into the king. Much of the empire would be deep in sleep by now but the king had very usual patterns of rest. It drove the other courtiers mad but Bruce didn’t mind so much given how he shared the same aversion to rest. 

Multiple times a month, the king would join him in the night. Supposedly to look over the records, to be an active king and increase his awareness of the dull administrative affairs of the realm, but more often than not simply to distract Bruce with tales of adventures which may or may not be true. He spoke of far away lands and extraordinary people, outlined new ideas for fantastical inventions that could only come from the mind of a sleep deprived genius. 

King Anthony threw an arm around his shoulder, the gentle glow of the flames illuminating his face with a gentle warmth that made Bruce’s heart stutter. Anthony pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek - a common greeting from the overly tactile ruler - and practically skipped alongside him as they moved through the castle. “Sir Bruce-ius, my dear friend.”

“Anthony, my dear king,” Bruce responded in an equally sing-song tone. “How can I assist you this evening?”

“What makes you certain I want something?” A sharp side eye brought an even wider grin to Anthony’s face. He had no right being that charming and irritating at the same time. Turning them off towards the royal wing of the palace, Anthony admitted, “Alright, yes, I want something. I promise, this time it’s a good use of Kingdom funds.”

That was difficult to believe and, it turned out, rightly so. The king had barely finished laying out his plans before Bruce launched into a list of reasons why that was a terrible waste of money. Anthony let him reach twenty six separate arguments and then interjected a different idea entirely.

“Okay, well what about a party then? We can put the fifteen foot tall, fire breathing unicorn on hold for now and settle for a small ball instead. Much cheaper and less flaming shit to put out.”

Bruce groaned. Another ball? They’d only just finished reconstructing the west tower after the last party had ended in the most “magnificent revelry”. He saw it as it was: a group of drunken knights messing around with the trebuchet and accidentally demolishing a part of the castle. 

Wriggling free of the king’s arm, already missing the contact and the comforting weight of Anthony’s embrace, Bruce put his foot down. Literally. He stomped his heavy boot on the stone floor and folded his arms, projecting as much authority as he could before the leader of the realm. “I apologise, my king, but the treasury cannot afford to fund another ball this season. I do not care for whom it was meant to be or which foreign dignitary you hoped to charm your way into their pants. We simply do not have the gold to spare. If all you require is a body to warm your bed, there are many in the palace who will do so for free. You needn’t bribe them.”

“I love when you get all strict on me, Brucie,” Anthony teased. He clapped him on the back and his expression softened in the dim light. He lifted a hand to Bruce’s face, his smooth palm cupping his cheek. “Do not worry, dear friend. Consider the notion dropped. Although…”

Anthony leant closer, the gap between them almost nonexistent. The torch in Bruce’s hand dropped to the floor, forgotten as he stared into the king’s deep brown eyes. Those soft lips parted slightly and Anthony’s eyes dropped, practically permission to take the leap but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to cross that hurdle. But he couldn’t walk away either, trapped in this awful limbo of wanting but lacking the bravery to take it. 

The flames of the torch licked at their heels and the king jumped back, kicking it aside to save Bruce’s cloak from catching fire. Trapped on opposite sides of the hallway, the moment shattered, the king smiled at the cold stone floor. “I don’t suppose that you would offer to warm my bed, would you Sir Bruce?”

It was easier to treat the question as a joke and not grace it with an answer. If Bruce considered it a genuine offer for more than a moment, his heart might break. He and Anthony had been friends for many years, long before they were king and advisor. There were too many years of history between them to risk changing the dynamic now, regardless of how he might sometimes dream of it.

Curiosity. Forbidden temptation. That was all it was, really. The only impulse they had never indulged. Bruce would rather resist entirely than have one night with Anthony and then have to pretend for the rest of his life that it hadn’t mattered, that it had been anything more than an evening of fun between old friends. 

Too late. It was too late to even consider the possibility that Anthony saw him as anything more than his trusted advisor and friend. And that was perfectly fine. Bruce would take the love of his king however he could. It was the easiest way. 

Lowering his head in a polite bow, Bruce collected the torch from the ground and turned away from the king with a hollow heart. “Good night, my lord.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce knocked on the King’s chamber door again but still received no answer. He pulled the key from the double loop on his belt, the only spare copy in the entire castle, and let himself into Anthony’s room only to find it empty. It was never a good sign when the castle was quiet. It could only mean a handful of things and none of them scenarios that Bruce had the energy to deal with today. 

Option one, perhaps the most serious but unlikely: a mercenary from a rival kingdom had kidnapped King Anthony during the night and was holding him ransom. That was, obviously, bad for a multitude of reasons, not least the safety of the beloved regent’s life which would be in even more danger when those that took him realised that the Stark Empire did not have the funds to buy back their king’s freedom. 

Thankfully, if that was the case, the knights would have known by now and the rest of the castle household soon after (for all their strength on the battlefield, Sir Rhodes and his men were fairly lousy at keeping secrets - especially when it came to the king). From the distinct lack of clatter coming from the weapons’ vault, Bruce deduced that had not happened. 

The second was that Anthony had thrown himself head first into the vibrant celebrations for Lady Virginia’s coronation anniversary and was nursing an incredibly intense hangover. It was more common than not for Anthony to sleep for days after such a party and finding him sprawled, half naked across his bed despite the late hour of the evening seemed a particularly likely outcome. 

The oldest of friendships, even older than the one that Bruce shared with his king, Anthony and Virginia were absolutely menaces when left to their own devices. If a group of scantily clad ladies burst from the wardrobe, or he learned that they’d gone on an impromptu quest to slay a dragon with nothing but a letter opener, Bruce would not have been shocked.

Strong willed and beautiful, Lady Virginia ruled over a neighbouring micro-kingdom, a collection of towns and villages where women from around the continent flocked to learn skills and hone talents that may otherwise have been overlooked or dissuaded in their homelands. She was a force to be reckoned with and more than capable of drinking Anthony under the table. Perhaps in his youth he might have been able to keep up with her but the years had taken their toll and now, despite his best efforts, Anthony frequently fell asleep at her feet. 

While not life threatening, if that was the case, Bruce would have to suffer the king’s famed combination of grumpy neediness for the next few days as he worked off the hangover from Brunnhilde’s famed ale; no one knew exactly how she brewed it so strong but many were confident that she was secretly a goddess from another realm that used her ethereal knowledge to create her infamous drink. Having met her multiple times, Bruce was fairly certain himself that that was indeed the truth. 

The final possibility was, perhaps, the most concerning. If Anthony was hiding from Bruce, it could only mean that he was planning something big - and expensive. That was the last thing that the stressed advisor wanted to deal with this week, especially not after he had caved into Anthony’s requests last month for funds to purchase the highest quality of vibranium to create some kind of smart, programmed drawbridge. 

Thus far, the intelligence of the bridge had yet to be demonstrated; it had an unfortunate tendency to close itself at incredibly inconvenient points such as when a mounted guard and his horse were halfway across. (The knights of the kingdom were, understandably, now quite reluctant to use that particular entrance in and out of the castle.)

Fearful of what he might find, Bruce headed down to the grand hall in search of the king. As his steps echoed down the empty hallways, he heard the distant sound of rumblings nearby. The closer he got to the grand hall, the louder they became and he realised that they were actually coming from the small privy council chambers off the side. Bursts of laughter slipped beneath the crack until, suddenly, they stopped entirely. 

Oh, this was not going to be good. 

Bruce had never enjoyed surprises and he had a feeling that this would be no exception. 

Steeling himself, Bruce pushed open the ornate door, his thumb absentmindedly trailing the swirling lines of inlaid platinum. He squinted, unable to see anything through the shadows in the small hall save for a thin line of sunlight where a tapestry did not fully cover the window. 

Without warning, the tapestries were torn aside and the blinding light of the red setting sun shone in, momentarily blinding him. A round of raucous cheers and applause punched through the silence, deafening in their intensity. 

A familiar arm landed across his shoulders as Anthony held him firm against his side, stopped him from turning and fleeing for the hills. The comfortable weight grounding him, Bruce’s heartbeat reluctantly returned to normal and he found himself actually able to take in the scene around him. 

The circular table in the centre of the chamber was decorated with a large table cloth created from scraps of fabric, old tapestries which had fallen into disrepair and an uncomfortable large proportion taken from what Bruce suspected was the knights’ spare underwear supply. A small, burned cake (already missing a fair few slices) sat proudly on the king’s silver, decorated with fruits and flowers from the castle gardens.

The knights wore their best shirts - some had even bothered to wash them - and smiled brightly at their favourite advisor before bursting into the worst rendition of Happy Birthday that he had ever had the misfortune of hearing. There was even some questionable choreography, although whether that had been planned or Sir Clinton had simply enjoyed one too many ales he couldn’t say.

A large banner was hung to the wooden panelled walls with daggers, the message _’Happy brithday Sir Brucius’_ painted awkwardly across the length. It was clearly the king’s hand and, too touched by the shoddy effort to mention that the misspelling, Bruce turned to Anthony and asked, “You did this for me?”

“Of course!” Anthony grinned proudly, guiding the advisor to their seats around the table.

“Tell him the best bit,” Lady Natasha, the only woman on the council but by far the scariest member, said. She leant back in her chair and watched the men with a knowing smile on her face but had the grace to say nothing else. 

The king’s excitement grew as he draped one of his deceptively heavy gold chains around Bruce’s neck. “I spent absolutely no money on this!" 

Biting back the retort that he could indeed tell, Bruce felt nothing but adoration for Anthony. This entire thing was ridiculous and any other man might have been offended by the lackluster show but he saw straight through to the thought that had gone into it. It didn’t matter that the decorations were made of scrap fabrics; the king had chosen the ones he knew Bruce loved the most and created them himself. The berries which topped the cake were his favourite and every other detail had a deeper meaning, a memory of a time they had spent together across the years. 

Bruce was genuinely lost for words. He could not believe the effort the king had gone to for this party. It was nonsensical that Anthony would devote such time and thought to him, even as close friends as they were. "It's… brilliant, my king.”

Having the good sense not to listen in on this conversation, the other knights paired off and chatted loudly to give the king and his advisor some privacy. Anthony cut two large slices of cake and slid them over, dropping a shining silver fork into Bruce’s hand. “Cook gave me the recipe so it’s her fault if it tastes like toad droppings, not mine.”

The sponge was claggy on Bruce’s tongue and had a completely horrendous aftertaste of salt but he smiled at his king nonetheless. “Anthony, I am honoured you would go to such effort for me.”

“It’s a new beginning, my dear friend. From this day on, I have vowed to listen to your advice and rebuild the kingdom’s funds. No more unnecessary purchases. Only trades that will enrich the Stark Empire.”

Bruce subtly set the cake aside, beyond grateful when Lady Natasha knocked the uneaten creation into a plant pot, and rest his hand atop of Anthony’s. “You are aware, my king, that those exotic rainbow strawberries you enjoy so much come under the unnecessary purchases?”

“But Bruce…” he whined, like a sad little dog. 

“The treasury will allow one crate a year, during the height of the season. It is entirely unnatural to bathe in their juice during the winter no matter how smooth it makes your skin.”

Shaking his head, but not arguing the point, Anthony flipped his palm and laced his fingers with Bruce’s. A blush spread across Bruce’s cheeks at the soft, gentle touch of Anthony’s thumb across his knuckles. “You would think differently if you joined me. However, I shall bow to your advice if it will ease your concerns.”

“It will.”

“In that case, consider the matter dropped. I truly must apologise for the hardships you have endured these past years, balancing the ledgers. I never realised the stress you were under.”

“No worries, my king. May I ask, what brought about the change of heart? I have been trying for many years to curb your spending and never once have you listened.”

Anthony pressed a hand to his chest, a dramatic display of offence which was too flamboyant to be true. “Are you suggesting that your king is stubborn, dear friend?”

That was exactly what Bruce was suggesting, although he would never dare to use the word itself. Searching for an out, he scrambled, “I merely meant that I find it very difficult to imagine that any of our conversations finally acted as a catalyst for change.”

Rolling his eyes, Anthony shuffled closer to Bruce, his chair scraping against the floor as he did. None of the knights so much as blinked at the horrendous sound, although they were obviously paying more attention to the interaction than they hoped to show. Oblivious or uncaring of their thoughts, the king said, “I had a frank discussion with Lady Virginia not long ago. She practically ordered me to get my house back in line and I am, honestly, a little frightened of her. But she also opened my eyes to something that which I have been blind for many years.”

“Are you sure that this is something I will want to hear, Anthony?”

He laughed, a rich sound that lifted Bruce’s heart in his chest. Dark eyes locked on his, the king nodded. “It is no sordid act, rest assured. No, she simply suggested that I stop spending my family fortune on chasing the hearts of others when the one I truly desire is already so close to home. I never considered that he might feel the same, that he saw me as anything more than his monarch but…”

Bruce glanced down nervously at their hands, fingers entwined so perfectly, so naturally. Nothing had ever felt so right as this. The way Anthony looked at him now, as if he were the brightest star in the sky, ever present to guide him home, was overwhelming to say the least. 

“It’s you, if you hadn’t worked that out,” Anthony supplied unhelpfully. “I should have told you years ago but never quite found the courage until today. I love you, Bruce. Have done for the longest time." 

His mind reeled, hundreds of thousands of awful possibilities racing through his brain. Every possible ending, all the ways that this could go wrong and ruin the friendship they had so carefully cultivated across the years. Of course he wanted to take Anthony in his arms, the infuriating and charming and utterly mad man that he loved, but Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it if things fell apart. 

"Say something. Please?”

Something in his tone, in his eyes, decided it for him. They’d hidden from this long enough. It was time to be brave and finally take the leap, consequences be damned. 

Actions speaking louder than words ever could, Bruce cupped Anthony’s cheeks and pulled him into a soft kiss. The perfectly kept beard scratched against his skin in the best way as the king slipped a hand around his neck and deepened the kiss. It was everything he had dreamed of and more, like finding the missing piece of his heart and feeling complete for the first time in his life. 

The knights cheered as they broke apart and burst into a new round of song, detailing in explicit detail how the two men might spend their first evening together. Bruce hid his face in Anthony’s shoulder, content to live down the embarrassment so long as he never had to leave his side again.


End file.
